


Finding Something

by acornpockets



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Violence, angst angst angst, just another gay bastard that kieran has to deal with, kieran's not straight, neither is colm o'driscoll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 08:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21472768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acornpockets/pseuds/acornpockets
Summary: All his life, Kieran had been searching for something.
Relationships: Kieran Duffy/Bill Williamson, Kieran Duffy/Colm O'Driscoll, Kieran Duffy/Unnamed Female Character, Kieran Duffy/Unnamed Male Character(s), Mary-Beth Gaskill/Tilly Jackson(mentioned)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	Finding Something

All his life, Kieran had been searching for something.

He’d been alone for as long as he could remember. He had the vaguest memories of his father, a giant of a man with a stern face and hopeful promises, and slightly more vivid memories of his mother - his _ Mammy _ \- of being curled up in the safety of her lap, of a face he could no longer visualize but still knew was kind. They both died when he was young, but his mother’s death hurt him the worst. Her absence was sudden and confusing; he couldn’t understand why she’d left him, and could barely comprehend how utterly alone he was without her. 

The family his parents had worked for were gracious enough to let him stay with them in exchange for labor. The stables became his entire life. He slept there, ate there, spent every moment of his life alongside the horses and an old, one-legged stablemaster who beat him over the slightest wrongdoing. But Kieran still loved the horses. They were easier to understand than people were; he understood what they needed, what they wanted, how their minds worked. He learned a lot from them, and that learning would stay with him well into his adulthood. 

The family Kieran worked for had a son around his age. He started coming down to the stables to play with him, because they were the only children around for miles. Kieran had never been able to just _ play _ before, and their adventures and mischief made his heart race and bubble over with delight. He quickly found himself searching for any scrap of time to spend with him, even if it meant extra beatings and harsher punishments. Kieran distinctly remembers lying awake at night, still giggling to himself despite his empty, growling belly, thinking of brown eyes and dark hair and freckles, of the only person in the world who actually _ liked _him. 

Kieran was barely a teenager when they finally kissed. The boy’s mother had caught them, gone into a fit of rage, and chased Kieran, screeching like a banshee, from the farm. 

Alone again. 

Kieran lost his virginity when he was sixteen, to a prostitute in a tiny livestock town where he was struggling to survive off of odd jobs and petty thievery. He’d paid her with a few dollars and loose cigarettes; she’d let him touch her tits and taught him how to fuck her. He remembers the embarrassment rushing over him like a burn; the awkward, ragged thrusts of his hips and the way he’d shook and shuddered through his first orgasm. A distinct lack of connection as they’d laid in bed afterwards, sharing a cigarette, Kieran’s mind wandering back to that first kiss and how different it had been. 

He thought, maybe, that the military might be able to give him a purpose other than survival. If anything, it introduced him to a new struggle altogether. Kieran did well, at first — he responded well to discipline in the fact that he was timid, and followed directions without question, ever fearful of repercussions.

There were other things to be found in the military. A sense of purpose, a reason to wake up in the morning. Structure — and, yes, a strange sense of comradery alongside men bonded by discipline and order. There were times when the normal rules of society didn’t apply to them, like when it was below freezing and they’d share bedrolls, blankets, and body heat. The first time Kieran woke up to another man’s hard-on pressed against his ass, looked over his shoulder to find another pair of eyes staring back at him, knowing and wanting and needing, everything clicked into place. 

Kieran’s desertion was inevitable. The military gave him something, yes, but more than anything, it made him afraid. He was afraid of the war, afraid of messing up, afraid of being _ caught_, so he left before they had a chance to. 

A few others came with him. Some men who didn’t function well at all under the pressures of war, men who were good fighters but terrible warriors. Others who shared what Kieran did, who had the same fears as he did. They weren’t missed, and they made Kieran hopeful. For the few months he was with them, he actually thought he might find some semblance of family among his rag-tag band of cowards and criminals. 

He would never find out. They were all slaughtered.

Kieran would never understand why the O’Driscolls didn’t kill him right then. He wasn’t anything special; if anything, his sobbing and pleading was pathetic. But they’d offered him life, and he’d accepted. 

He struggled to understand that, sometimes, too. There were days when he _ wished _they’d just killed him in the first place. But at the time, he’d wanted to live, had begged for his life and been awash with gratitude when they offered it to him, ran with them for little over half a year. 

In that time, Kieran was probably the only person who ever talked back to Colm O’Driscoll and lived. Not without repercussions, of course, but a smack upside the head was nothing compared to the brutality of the punishments Colm usually dished out to his men. 

But Colm never had him killed, or even beaten. Just wrinkled his nose in frustration, brought his own hand across Kieran’s face, and sent him scurrying off to do whatever he said anyway. 

Kieran wasn’t anything special, but Colm must have thought he was, because instead of ending up dead, Kieran ended up in his bed. 

Colm wasn’t the only one Kieran fucked while he ran with the O’Driscolls, but he was probably the only reason Kieran made it out of that gang alive. Their fucking was almost feral — Colm snarled and snapped at him, Kieran’s teeth and nails left gashes and ravines across his skin. They were all wiry muscle and greasy hair, nothing more than two men desperately trying to satisfy the same inexplicable, unavoidable need. 

Initially, Kieran would leave afterwards. Not a word uttered, dressed himself and slipped, silently, out into the cold to sleep with the horses. Towards the end, though, Colm started to keep him around. He'd settle over Kieran’s body after he finished, anchoring him, clinging to him. He’d fall asleep with an arm draped over Kieran’s chest, with nothing more than a low, uttered warning — _ “You make me regret this, boy, and I’ll skin you myself.” _

When Kieran was captured, he was sure he was going to die. Either the Van der Lindes would kill him, or Colm would hunt him down and make good on his promise. 

He wasn’t wrong, and the Van der Lindes weren’t much different than the O’Driscolls — at least, Kieran couldn’t tell. He’d later realize what the difference was, that they weren’t so much of a gang as much as they were a family, and although Kieran was never truly accepted into it, it was the closest he’d ever come to it in his adult life, and there were a few scarce moments when he could almost believe that he had been. 

Arthur and Sean, when their antagonism and bullying slowly turned into something softer, caring and sympathetic. They wanted to include him, wanted to understand, but weren’t quite sure how. 

Bill, who filled him with the same mixture of fear and arousal that Colm had. When he’d lured Kieran into the woods outside of camp and, instead of killing him, pinned Kieran against a tree and fucked him, good and slow and deep. 

The only time Kieran had ever gotten drunk when he was with them, when Mary Beth and Tilly had watched over him. He’d fallen asleep with his head in Mary Beth’s lap, both of them stroking his hair, their hands clasped over his chest, fingers laced. It was like magic, how real and pure and _ safe _they’d made him feel. 

The horses. _ Kieran had horses again. _ Not the malnourished, skittish creatures the O’Driscolls kept, or the hardened machines they used in the military that were constantly dying and being replaced. The Van der Lindes’ horses were loved. Kieran learned their names, their personalities. He talked to them like they were people. He had horses again, and with _ them _, he found something like a family. 

When he was stolen in the middle of the night from Shady Belle, Kieran knew it was over for him. Everyone was drunk, probably wouldn’t even notice he was gone. Colm had finally tracked him down; it was time. 

They tortured him for hours. Kieran screamed and sobbed and begged — for mercy, for relief, for Colm — but he didn’t say a word about the Van der Lindes. Maybe he didn’t actually owe them anything, but he felt like he did. He clung to those little kernels of love he’d found with them, and refused to give them away in exchange for anything, even his life. 

Colm came, finally. He looked Kieran in the eye with what he could only believe was disappointment. 

“Well, boy?” he asked. His voice was the same as it always was — commanding and vaguely threatening — but softer, with an edge of fondness that cut Kieran deeper than any knife. “You been yellin’ for hours. You got something to say?” 

Everything shook. The fear of death made Kieran’s entire body tremble, but he held his head high, and held Colm’s gaze, unwavering. 

Kieran knew what Colm wanted. He wanted an apology, wanted to see Kieran grovel, to beg for his life like he had all those months ago. 

_ He wanted Kieran back. _

When Kieran spoke, his voice almost cracked.

“No.”

Colm’s expression twisted in that familiar way — his brows furrowed, his nose scrunched. Frustration and anger. Kieran saw that face and expected Colm to smack him. 

He didn’t. Colm looked instead to one of his men, the one holding the knife. 

“Finish this,” he said. Turned on his heel, and left. 

The last thing Kieran sees is the back of his head, and it’s over.


End file.
